


Stroke of Midnight

by cosmogyrals



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-11
Updated: 2013-03-11
Packaged: 2017-12-04 23:24:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/716252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmogyrals/pseuds/cosmogyrals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Originally written for the prompt "It's midnight, do you know where your child(ren)/best friend/lover/parent is?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stroke of Midnight

The bells atop a nearby church chime midnight as Martha leans against a tree in the park, curls of steam rising up in front of her face as she breathes. Her eyes search the darkness, trying to pick a familiar slim form out from among the shadowy trees. He'd _said_ he'd meet her here at midnight - they only have an hour before the eggs in the crypt beneath the church are supposed to hatch. Well, an hour and four minutes, to be precise, though why alien eggs would choose to hatch at 1:04 AM on the night of the new moon is quite beyond Martha's comprehension.

At any rate, she's starting to get a little impatient with the Doctor. _She'd_ arrived at 11:45, scoping out the area for any sign of the brood's mother, then returning to their appointed meeting place. But so far, she hasn't seen hide nor hair of the Doctor. Maybe he's got the time wrong, or the date, or the planet, or any one of those other coordinates that only matters to someone who travels through time and space in a temperamental wooden police box. Or maybe he's gotten distracted by some other alien threat, or a particularly shiny object, or maybe he stopped off to get a bite to eat - 

Or maybe he's just forgotten about her entirely. He's been out taking the TARDIS for test drives, or so he claims, making sure that all the Master's work on her has been undone. He's spent weeks trying to get things back to normal so that he can move on with his life. She wonders if he's figured out yet that she's planning to leave him. Probably not; he's always been rather thick about, well, most things.

She wonders why, if she's planning to leave him anyway, being stood up bothers her so much. All right, so maybe 'stood up' isn't exactly the _proper_ term - it's hardly a date, just relocating some baby birds so that they don't nibble away at the foundations of a centuries-old church. But it still bothers her - maybe because she wants to be the one leaving, and she wants it to be on her terms. She's his equal; she doesn't want to just be discarded and left behind.

"Martha!" She instinctively checks the time on her mobile phone as the shout comes from behind her.

"You're seven minutes late," she informs the Doctor, grinning at him anyway, because she's glad he came after all.

"Am I?" He runs a hand through his hair, making it stand up on end, and offers her a cup with his free hand. "Chocolate milkshake?"

"Oi, don't think you can buy me off with a milkshake," she tells him, one hand on her hip as she takes the milkshake from him and sips it. All right, so maybe she _can_ be bought off with a milkshake.

"Wouldn't dream of it." There's a beatific look on the Doctor's face for just a moment, then it's back into his usual manic mode. "C'mon, we've got some hatchlings to take care of." And he's running off towards the church, his coat billowing behind him, and Martha, as always, follows him.


End file.
